


Give Me Shelter

by shellface



Series: For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic [6]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Background Character Death, Domestic, M/M, hongbin and taekwoon are police officers, in the missing persons department
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellface/pseuds/shellface
Summary: A case involving a missing child is proving a little too hard to deal with, especially considering the grueling adoption process he and Wonshik are going through. Luckily, Wonshik is always waiting in the wings for when it all gets too much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: I obviously have no experience of the police force, and this is all my imagination. 
> 
> Thanks to B for supporting the idea, and reading the entire thing. <3

The alarm rings out, sharp and insistent, and Hongbin groans quietly to himself. He does not move, though he knows he should. He's exhausted; he only got to bed about four hours ago, and he's not slept more than five hours a night this entire week.

Wonshik is still sleeping next to him, because nothing ever wakes him from his slumber. It is both a blessing and a curse; this morning, it is definitely a blessing.

Slowly, he sits up, rubbing a hand across his face. The room is still dark, only a shaft of moonlight illuminating the room. It's a horrible, cold morning, and he knows that even coffee will not make it any better.

 _I don't want to go to work._ The thought comes unbidden, and he sighs to himself. He's been having this feeling more and more lately, a lethargic dread that he cannot shake, and he is not used to it. Everyone has days when they're just not feeling it – but this is more than that.

He can't go into work and sit there, reviewing evidence for a child that is most likely dead. He can admit it. He has never claimed to be an optimist, and common sense dictates that if they haven't found her after two weeks, they are not going to find her alive.

In the beginning, he was filled with determination – hope, even – but day by day, it has trickled into resigned purpose. If this little girl is out there somewhere, then he wants her home, safe. Late at night, when Wonshik is snoring gently next to him, he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, wondering just what the hell happened.

She's a normal little girl – at least, she seems to be, from the photos. A bright, smiling three year old with a baby brother, and two parents who adore her. That's what the media want the public to think – Hongbin, however, suspects something altogether different.

Oh, he doesn't doubt that the parents love her, in their own, distant, neglectful way – but there's something going on with the family. You do this job for a while, and you can smell the liars. And there's something going on here, something they don't want to admit to.

And the thought of a tiny little girl, left to the poor mercies of whatever bastard has her, all because her family can't admit to some tragically embarrassing secret – well, it kills him inside. It makes it hard to do his job.

But he has to. His back aching from being hunched over paperwork for ten hours straight, he heaves himself out of bed and heads for the bathroom. When he turns on the light and looks at the mirror, he winces. He looks like absolute shit, but there's nothing he can do except shave and hope for the best.

Taekwoon looks worse, after all. He's not sure the other man has slept since this case was brought in.

***

When he walks back into their bedroom, Wonshik is awake, leaning against the headboard. He's shirtless – because for once, he managed to take his clothes off before he fell asleep – and he looks really, really good, lying there like that. But he has no time for anything like that, so – regretfully – he drags his gaze away from his partner's naked chest. “I wanted to at least see you before you rushed off,” Wonshik says, yawning. He leans towards him, tugging at his arm. Hongbin falls into bed with him, because – where Wonshik is concerned, at least – he can never say no.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, “but you know how it is.”

“You mean I knew what I was getting into when I married a policeman?” Wonshik gives him a wry smile. “Yeah, I did. But you're working even more than me lately, and I didn't think that was possible.”

Hongbin laughs, acknowledging the truth of it. The word 'workaholic' is not enough when Wonshik is at his worst. “It'll be over soon.” He sighs, looking down at his hands. “At least, I hope it will be.”

Wonshik looks at him, eyes sad. “You really don't think they're going to find her alive?”

He shrugs helplessly. “I'd love her to be out there somewhere, just waiting for us to find but I – ” He swallows, and takes a deep breath. “I don't think it's very likely,” he finishes quietly.

Wonshik pulls him closer then, and Hongbin relaxes in his hold, thanking whatever god there may or may not be that Wonshik is in his life. It makes it that little bit easier, knowing he has Wonshik to come home to. He might be a little distracted, a little cranky – too caught up in a melody he can't finish – but he will always be there. And that, sometimes, is the only thing that keeps him going.

“I love you,” he tells him, as he pulls away. “And I probably won't be home before dinner, so eat without me, okay?”

Wonshik snorts. “I'm waiting for you, like I always do.” He grins cheekily. “I can always eat two dinners.”

He kisses him for that, laughing into his mouth. Wonshik deepens it, holding his wrists so that he cannot go, but he pulls away, still chuckling. “Seriously, Wonshik, I have to go.”

Reluctantly, Wonshik loosens the death grip he has on his arms. “I know.” He kisses him once more - for luck, he always says – and sits back. “Go, before I get even clingier. I love you.”

He takes the chance to escape, still wishing he could stay in bed with him. “I love you too,” he says from the doorway, and sleepily, Wonshik smiles at him.

He knows that it is this image that will get him through the day.

***

When he walks into the station, he is greeted by a plethora of glum, tired faces. When Taekwoon offers him coffee, he takes it without question. He knows it will be too strong for his taste, but you take what you get on days like this.

“So,” he says, warming his hands on the cardboard cup, “anything new?” It's a formality – a pleasantry, almost. He isn't actually expecting there to be any news.

Taekwoon's expression is grim, his undereye circles almost purple. “You're not going to like this,” he warns him, “but it's not going to surprise you.”

He puts his cup down. He can sense that this is something he doesn't need a hot liquid in his hands for. “Go on,” he says carefully.

“The parents didn't actually see her before she disappeared. They _apparently_ sent someone up to check the kids every half an hour or so, but who knows if that's actually true? The story's changed so many times, they could have been doing fucking anything.”

Hongbin fights the urge to throw something, and instead massages his temples with two fingers. “They left two tiny children in an apartment all by themselves, while they fucking drank around the pool? It beggars belief, it really fucking does.”

Taekwoon nods. “Well, at the very least, we were right. They were hiding something. I guess this is it.” He looks haunted, and gaunt. Hongbin isn't sure he's seen him eat in a while, or do anything not related to police work. “I don't get how someone can just leave their kids in the house like that. If I had any, I'd need to know they were safe to do _anything_.”

He pats his shoulder awkwardly. “We all feel that way, Taek,” he says softly. He knows that Taekwoon is thinking of his own nieces, who are of very similar ages, and precious to him. Their parents would never let them out of their sight like that.

He knows he certainly wouldn't – if he ever gets the chance to be a parent, that is. He and Wonshik have been going through the adoption process for what seems like an age. This entire case has only served to highlight that truly awful parents are allowed to keep their kids all of the time, and it hurts.

They have a home with two spare bedrooms, a stable relationship, and they both make more than enough money to support a child – but is that enough? Apparently not. And yet, this couple can leave their two infants alone in a huge apartment, with no one but a drunken adult to occasionally check on them. His chest burns with anger.

“Who _does_ that?” Taekwoon mutters to himself. “And we're not even allowed to tell the public, because mummy's related to someone high up in the government. This investigation is fucked.”

The anger is growing now. “That's why you can't release it?” He presses a hand against his mouth. “Of fucking course.”

Taekwoon shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder if this kid ever even had a chance,” he says darkly.

Hongbin is beginning to wonder the same thing.

***

“Come out with me and Jaehwan,” Wonshik shoves his phone in his back pocket, still rooting around for his keys. “It's been ages since you came out with me. We're only going for a couple of beers.” His tone turns wheedling.

Hongbin shakes his head. He's so exhausted that he can barely stay upright, and the idea of sitting in a bar with Jaehwan making stupid jokes is too much to even contemplate. “It's fine. You go,” he says shortly.

Wonshik sighs. “It's been weeks since you did anything fun. It won't kill you to let loose for one night, Hongbin.”

Irritation flashes through him. “It's been a rough couple of weeks. I'm too tired.”

“You seem to have enough time to drink with the guys at work,” Wonshik says quietly. Hongbin can hear the accusation in his tone, and he doesn't care for it.

“One drink isn't hanging out,” he can feel his temper rising. “And you've never had a problem with it before.”

“I don't have a problem with it,” Wonshik counters, “but I do have a problem with never seeing my own husband. I know how stressful this case is, but I just think it would do you some good to relax a bit with me. Wouldn't it be nice just to get away?”

“You have no idea how stressful this is.” Hongbin's temper snaps, and inwardly, he cringes at how cruel he sounds – but he cannot stop. “Everyday – every day! – I have to go in, and scour the same information for any scrap of evidence we might have missed. And all the while, there is a tiny child out there, missing, probably dead, and her fucking parents get to cry on the TV about how much they miss her when I know – I know! – they're probably the reason she was fucking taken. They left her in an apartment, alone for hours. How the hell am I supposed to deal with that?”

Wonshik stares at him, shellshocked. “I don't know,” he says. “I – I've never experienced it.”

“That's right,” Hongbin mutters, “you _don't_ know. So stop pressuring me to go out. There is no escape from this. There can't possibly be.”

Wonshik's shoulders slump, and immediately, Hongbin feels guilty. He shouldn't have taken it out on him like that. “I wasn't pressuring you,” he says softly, refusing to look at him. “You know I wouldn't do that.”

“I'm sorry,” he sighs, reaching out to him. Wonshik does not react when he takes his hand. “Really, I am. I didn't mean to take it out on you, I just – it's hard,” he sighs, awkwardly holding Wonshik's limp hand.

“I know. But I can't help you if you don't talk to me about it,” Wonshik tells him, his eyes probing. “If you just keep it to yourself, and explode on me every once in a while, what am I supposed to do?”

He supposes he does have a tendency to do that. It's not a particularly attractive quality. “I know,” he repeats, “and I really am sorry.” He slides his arms around Wonshik's waist, drawing him closer. “You know I couldn't do it without you,” he breathes softly.

The tension goes out of Wonshik's shoulders. “You could,” he assures him, “but I am here to help. If you need me.”

“I always need you,” he promises, “but you go out tonight, and have fun without me. I'm no good to you tonight.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay home and play Overwatch with you?” Wonshik asks slyly. “Or are you just waiting for me to go before you do that?”

Hongbin snickers. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather play Chanshik. He's more of a challenge than you are.”

Wonshik narrows his eyes. “I don't think there's any way I can't take offence to that.”

“I always win when I play you,” Hongbin says furtively, “and there's no fun in that.”

“I see how it is,” Wonshik complains playfully, pulling away. “I guess I better fuck off, then, and let you play with your other boyfriend.”

“Wonshik...” He rolls his eyes as Wonshik shrugs on his jacket, still pretending to be angry.

“I'm still offended,” Wonshik tells him, in mock seriousness, “but I need to kiss you goodbye.”

***

The call comes at half three in the morning, when he is actually asleep. He wakes up disorientated, still tangled up with Wonshik, and wondering just what the hell is making that noise. As soon as he realises it is his phone, dread settles in the pit of his stomach.

He knows, then, that she has been found. Why else would they bother calling him, at this hour?

“We've got her,” comes the grim voice on the other end of the line, “and I know you only finished a few hours ago, but – it's bad. Taekwoon can't do this.” He swallows. “You have to come.”

He's already halfway out of the bed, searching for discarded clothing on the floor. “I'm on my way. Text me the address.”

“Will do.”

***

When he reaches the scene, a female officer he doesn't recognise is patting Taekwoon on the back as he retches on the floor. Her mouth is set in a tight line. “Forensics are in there now, but it's – it's bad,” she says, her words almost a mirror image of the dispatcher's. “Just – be warned.”

He is becoming increasingly afraid as this goes on. How bad can it be to have Taekwoon throwing up, and everyone warning him to be prepared? Technically, it should be Taekwoon on the scene, as he is above him in the hierarchy – but no one would force him to be there, if it's making him ill.

“Okay,” he says. “I'm warned.” He jerks a nod in her direction, and pats Taekwoon on the back. “I'll be back in a minute, Taek.”

Taekwoon does not respond for a second, too busy wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “She was a _child_ ,” he says fiercely, and Hongbin takes a step back at the vehemence in his tone. “Who _does_ that to a baby?”

“I don't know,” he says honestly, “but we're going to find the bastard. Forensics will get him, if nothing else does.”

Taekwoon spits on the ground, shoulders shaking. “I'm sorry. I just can't – I can't see that again. I'll be in after they've – they've done their stuff.”

He squeezes his shoulder. “It's fine. I'll do it,” he promises, mentally steeling himself for what is about to come. He leaves Taekwoon and the female officer, cautiously stepping past the crime scene tape. One broken end flaps in the wind, and as he watches it, he catches sight of the black bin liner to one corner. Two forensic techs are crouched over it, and as they move the bag with a pen, he glimpses ragged, torn flesh.

His legs buckle. No. Oh god, _no._

He swallows, but it is a mistake, because he can immediately taste the metallic tang of blood in the back of his mouth. He feels sick, and all of a sudden, he understands why Taekwoon is currently bent double several paces away. He's not sure he can do this either.

But he has to. Squaring his shoulders, he takes several steps towards the techs crowded over the body. “Hi,” he says. He does not hold out his hand, as he usually would, or step closer to the body. They don't need him to contaminate their crime scene. “I'm Officer Lee. Can you tell me what you know?”

“Well,” the more senior technician says grimly, “it's a female, visually identified to be about 3 to four years of age. And she – well, she looks like your missing person. We'll have to confirm it at the lab, obviously. But I'd say it's pretty certain.”

***

His day is a blur of endless reports, heartbreaking debriefs, and the half-remembered flashing of cameras at the press conference. He can barely open the door when he returns home, and he doesn't even remember the journey. His stomach is rumbling, but he cannot bear the idea of food.

Wonshik opens the door before he can get the key in the lock, and he falls into his arms, the familiar scent of his cologne the comfort he has desperately needed. Wonshik kicks the door shut with one foot, and half drags, half carries him to the bed.

“Don't leave,” he begs, as Wonshik deposits him on the bed. “Please don't – ”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Wonshik promises gently, “I'm just going to get you some tea. I'll be right back.” He pulls the blanket up over him. “Don't move.”

He doesn't, too exhausted to begin peeling off his clothing. He's half-asleep by the time Wonshik returns, two mugs of tea in hand. He sets them on the nightstand, and efficiently begins stripping him of his clothing.

Usually, Hongbin would have some sort of dirty – or at least sarcastic – comment to make about this, but he's so tired, he just lets him do it, only moving his head and arms when Wonshik asks him to.

Only when he is stripped down to his underwear, does Wonshik climb into the bed with him. “Tell me about it,” he whispers, and Hongbin clings to him, shaking his head. His eyes are already full of tears.

“You don't want to know,” he whispers back, despite the fact they are in their bedroom, and no one can hear them. “It was...horrible. Beyond horrible. I can't – I can't stop seeing it, every time I close my eyes...”

“The papers are going to report it soon enough,” Wonshik says, his deep voice soothing. Nothing else makes him more comfortable than the sound of Wonshik's voice. “You might as well tell me.”

He is silent for a moment, before the words bubble out without his control. “He hacked her to pieces. He hacked a tiny little girl – ” He stops, the words too horrific to verbalise completely. “She's been dead for about a week,” he says dully, “according to the rate of decomposition, at least.”

Wonshik tenses against him, but he does not pull away, and Hongbin is grateful. He doesn't think he could do this if Wonshik's body wasn't against his, firm and familiar. “I don't understand,” he whispers, “I don't get it.”

“That's because you're a good person,” Wonshik tells him, cuddling him close. “It's not something you can understand.”

He nods. He knows Wonshik is right – knows that by tomorrow, he will have compartmentalised every horrific moment – but for now, he needs this, needs the comfort of Wonshik's arms, and the familiar surroundings of the home they have built together.

***

“They have a print,” he tells Wonshik in bed the next night. Wonshik sets the sheet of music he was poring over down.

“That's good, isn't it?” He says cautiously, too used to things that sound good going sour.

“It is,” he agrees, “if they can find the person it belongs to,” he adds glumly. “And honestly, I don't know if they will. They'd have to have committed an offence before, or be from another country.”

“There's a good chance they're either of those things,” Wonshik points out. “You have to have hope.”

“I do,” Hongbin says, snuggling closer to him. “I have to. I need to make sure she gets justice.”

They fall silent for a moment, before Wonshik speaks up again. “Nari – you know, the social worker? Well, she called today.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “She wanted to know if we'd got any further on the references.”

Hongbin feels his stomach drop. He's still heard nothing from Taekwoon. “Taekwoon's still deciding,” he hedges.

“Okay,” Wonshik sighs. “Well, we've still got Hakyeon's, obviously.”

“You mean his ten page magnum opus?” Hongbin asks dryly. “I should hope so.” He smiles to himself. When they'd asked Hakyeon if he could write them a reference, they hadn't expected him to write a rambling, ten page history lesson on why they'd make the best parents ever – but he supposes he should have. Hakyeon is incapable of keeping things short and sweet, after all. And it was very kind of him.

“He's shortened it,” Wonshik promises. “It's actually readable now.”

“And your mum's sent hers off, hasn't she?” Hongbin asks. Wonshik nods.

“She wrote it in about five minutes, made dad check it over, then sent it without telling me.” He rolls his eyes. “She really wants grandchildren, so I'm sure it's good.”

“So that just leaves Taekwoon...” He sighs. “Well, if he says no, we've got plenty of other options, I guess. But he'd look better, being a police officer, and everything.”

“And Hakyeon's a teacher, so that looks good too,” Wonshik adds. He takes a deep breath. “We'll just have to see.”

Hongbin rolls onto his side, facing Wonshik. “We'll get there eventually,” he says, resting a hand on Wonshk's hip.

The other man smiles sadly. “I know. It just feels like there are roadblocks thrown up everywhere we turn.”

“We'll run them over,” Hongbin vows, “every single one.”

Wonshik splutters with laughter. “You're a police officer. You can't condone that!”

“I can in this case,” Hongbin says. He slides up against Wonshik's body, their chests touching. Wonshik looks at him expectantly. “And we will,” he whispers, mouth almost touching Wonshik's. “I promise.”

***

“Hey, Hongbin,” Taekwoon catches him as he is just about to leave, his bag slung over one arm. He and Wonshik have a meeting with a social worker in two hours, and they're planning to have dinner just before it.

“Yes?” He asks curiously, wondering why Taekwoon has sought him out. He looks better, he thinks. He must have finally got some sleep.

“I just wanted to tell you I've decided,” he says. When he stares at him in confusion, about to ask what this concerns, Taekwoon adds: “About the reference. For the adoption?”

Hongbin's face clears. “Oh, right.” He schools his face to keep it carefully blank. He knows that Taekwoon struggles to reconcile his religion with his and Wonshik's relationship; it's something he doesn't quite understand, but doesn't push. His grandmother is fervently Buddhist; he knows how important religion can be to people. “What did you decide?”

“I'm going to write you one. Well – it's nearly finished,” Taekwoon declares. “But you know what I mean.”

He feels a huge smile spread across his face. “You are?” He cannot wait to tell Wonshik. “Thank you! What changed your mind?”

Taekwoon waves a hand around the workroom. “This case, I suppose,” he says quietly. “I just thought, you and Wonshik would never leave your child alone to be taken that way. I know you'd do everything in your power to keep them safe. And although I might find the whole...gay thing hard to understand, I know you guys do actually love each other. So...I changed my mind.”

“It means a lot,” he says. “Wonshik will be really happy. I can't tell you how much this means to us, especially considering – well,” he pauses awkwardly. “You not really...approving of us.” He scratches the back of his head nervously.

Taekwoon shrugs. “Like I said, I know you love each other. And...I'm trying to get used to it. I'm sure I'll get there someday.”

 

 


End file.
